The Prodigal Child
by Lady Dragon
Summary: [Chapter 5 Now Up] Being the youngest assassin of Schwarz is hard. A simple mission goes horribly wrong landing Nagi in the hospital. Of course maybe hospitals aren't so bad after all. Hospitals where certain redhaired florists visit daily.
1. Chapter 1

**Betaed by:** Falconsong K'Vala   
  
**Warning:** Technically speaking this fic contains shotakon, yoai, shounen ai, angst, and possibly a lil OOC-ness. If that hasn't scared you off then please do continue reading.   
  
**Disclaimer:** I have yet to pull out an official document that reads: "Ye now owns the rights to Weiß Kreuz and all characters therin" from inside a Cracker-Jack box.   
  
**Author's Notes:** Well hmm,this is my first time really writing from Nagi's POV so I do hope its believeable. Meh at first I admit I wanted to write Nagi and make him sound rather naive, then I realised that despite being the youngest of all the assasins, yes he's even younger than Omi, he is probably one of hte most jaded containing a wisdom beyond his years. ^^; hey I like Nagalls what can I say?!   
Keep in mind this story is taking place somewhere in between the manga and the anime. ^^' events from the anime will soon come to pass in the storie's timeline as well... Now on with the fic! 

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**The Prodigal Child**  
Lady Dragon  
**Chapter 1**   
  
Sometimes I can't help but wonder if his ability to see the future robs him of some basic common sense. Luckily Crawford is not a telepath and cannot hear these thoughts. If he could I wouldn't be holed up in a hospital glaring at some bubbly nurse trying to shove pills down my throat. No, instead I'd have been lying on the floor in a puddle of my own blood, a bullet implanted between my eyes. Not a pretty picture. I have no past, but I certainly enjoy living enough that I wish to have a future.   
  
Sighing pitifully, the nurse finally throws in the towel. I have managed to stoically thwart her vain attempts of trying to force medicine down my throat, go me. Anemia is nothing major yet she, this stupid onna, stands fussing over me in a manner that could almost be considered maternal.   
  
"Well, I suppose ya must enjoy the hospital food well enough; 'else you'd have the sense, little boy, to take your medicine and leave!"   
  
With a huff she turns and stomps out of the room, leaving behind a cloud of sweet smelling perfume in her wake. I half expect her to return immediately but after fifteen minutes pass and the nurse still hasn't come back, I allow a small smirk to play across my lips, briefly. I've won this round. In the Schwartz household I'd have never been allowed to act so childish. It's refreshing in a way, to be treated as a child. To be fussed over, to for once have someone show concern over my welfare. It's a wonderful feeling. Here in this white room, surrounded by beeping machines, where the sounds from the busy hallway drift in. Here I am treated as a human being. I am not some assassin with a unique talent. I am not Prodigy of Schwartz; here I am merely Naoe Nagi the fifteen-year-old boy brought in by his guardian Farfarello due to a rather serious case of anemia.   
  
A glance around the room informs me that my 'guardian' is still nowhere to be found though. This of course stands to reason. Crawford, being over confident in his powers of intimidation, left myself in the care of Farfarello while he and Schuldich hurried to Takatori's side in America. Their expertise was required, and Takatori had made it abundantly clear that he wished to keep a somewhat low profile, something hard to do when accompanied by a small boy and an Irish loony. The man had been questioning Farfarello and mine's usefulness, I suppose he finally decided we're both useless.   
  
Shunned again, the story of my life, nothing new there. Crawford had just merely shrugged and informed us that although he and Schuldig would be gone, there was still work to be done here in Japan. Crawford had been right. Not even an hour had passed after Crawford and Schuldig's departure when headquarters had called in with an objective to meet. In short our services were required, Farfarello's and mine that is.   
  
The mission was fairly simple and straightforward. A group of radicals had somehow acquired some rather incriminating evidence against Takatori-san and were planning on handing it over to the authorities, well, the authorities not controlled by Takatori. We did not require Crawford to tell us what had to be done. Years of following in Crawford's shadow, and learning the procedures he, himself would wish to take, told me how to run this simple mission. Time was of essence and the matter could not wait till Crawford himself could return. I had sadly been unable to establish contact with the two gaijin assassins, not that I tried very hard.   
  
That night Farfarello and I had left to accomplish what we had both believed to be a fairly simple ordeal. The fools were stationed in a small basement, all their files saved to only one hard drive, unnervingly easy to retrieve and destroy. Perhaps my over confidence in the mission should have been a clue that I was not thinking everything through. How was I to realize that such a group of amateurs would be well-trained assassins in disguise? They were not in the league of most assassin groups of Kritiker, but they were more than I had bargained for.   
  
All that was required was to retrieve the stolen data, eliminate any traces of the knowledge and destroy the infidels. Instead what happened was a catastrophe. Midway through the mission Farfarello went into one of his crazed moments, hungry for blood and unable to recognize ally from foe. The targets were eliminated, data was retrieved and all traces destroyed and thats when Berserker decided I would be fun to play with.   
  
What ensued after that is still a blur, even now nearly forty-eight hours after the incident. All I can recall is the sight of Farfarello covered in blood, some of it his own but the majority of it his victim's. I'd thrown up shields to protect myself from his attacks, while trying to use my power to subdue and get him back under control. The ceiling started caving in on us as the bombs we had set earlier went off, then blissful darkness. I had woken up in the Schwartz apartments barely able to move, my head a throbbing and pounding thing.   
  
When I came to again, Farfarello looking down over me brushing my dark bangs from my eyes as he gently cradled me.   
  
"I will not let God take the dark child, I will not."   
  
He mumbled this repeatedly as he rocked me back and forth in his arms. I tried to sit up, to inquire as to what had put that gleam in his golden eye when I realized I couldn't move. My limbs felt like lead, and my energy was completely depleted. I could not even call my gift to raise myself. That's when blissful numbness finally over took me, dulled the pain in my head and allowed me to fall asleep at last.   
  
That had occurred the same night of that fateful incident. Farfarello knew how to mend cuts and how to patch up bullet wounds; the man did after all gain an impressive amount of them every mission. But my injuries were not external, but rather internal, and he was at a loss as to what to do for me. In a rare moment of brilliance he had brought me to Magic Bus Hospital, claiming to be my guardian who had returned late at night to find me in this condition. Though why the doctors believed him is truly beyond me.   
  
I have not seen much of the blonde man during my time here. No doubt he has been in contact with Crawford, that much he told me anyway, and for certain Crawford is deeply angered. I shudder to think what Crawford will say. I managed to bungle a single, simple mission, objective completed or not. Valuable tools cannot be damaged, and that's all that I am to them, just a useful tool that will have to be replaced when it looses its value or usefulness.   
  
I'm in deep trouble now; nothing will save me from a beating or two at Takatori's hands. Crawford usually keeps him from taking any anger out on me, but I somehow doubt I'll be spared this time. After all I'm quite sure Crawford will want a piece at me as well; and lets not forget Schuldig's mocking comments and snide laughter. It's not a wonder why, with teammates such as mine, I prefer the company of my computer and a good book? I didn't think so.   
  
But Crawford is not god, so there is no way he can return before the week is up. My punishment is prolonged then, possibly giving the American more time to concoct even more painful means of torturing me. I should cooperate with the nurse, swallow my medicine and then all the doctor's can deem me 'healthy' so that I can leave and go back to the apartment in a day or so. Instead I snuggled down into the bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin and curled up. Rolling over so as to face the hallway and watch the noisy people walk by I allow my mind to drift. Farfarello won't return till later this evening, if at all today, leaving me in peace. It's rare to have someone fussing over me, let alone several people, so I think I'll take advantage of it. For once I feel a measure of safety and comfort that isn't derived from weapons and the intimidating presences of my teammates surrounding me.   
  
Just as my mind is shutting down, and sleep begins to come I feel an unfamiliar presence enter the room. Before my eyes even have a chance to open my subconscious has registered the fact that this is no doctor or nurse I have met to date, nor is it Farfarello. Standing in the door, almost hesitantly, is the strangest and most beautiful man I've ever seen.   
  
The man's eyes automatically draw my attention; they're a beautiful shining amethyst color set in a pale porcelain complexion that manages to look regal and not sickly like Farfarello's. Crimson eyebrows frame those sparkling jewels, a single brow arching in question at me. What the man would want with me, I have no clue. Long ear tails frame his face and from his left ear dangles a single earring, just as elegant in appearance as it's owner. Remarkable, utterly remarkable. His hair is short and a glorious shade of red, like freshly spilled blood, or the rich and heady stuff served in high class restaurants in downtown Paris. Utterly unique, and seemingly unimaginable. Immediately I wish to inquire if it's natural.   
  
He sweeps a casual glance over my figure lying huddled in the large hospital bed he moves into the room and seemingly ignores my presence. Behind him I spy the nurse from earlier beating a hasty retreat. The man comes to stand at the foot of my bed and glances once more over me, his gaze holding mine before I am forced to look away. Eyes shining, so beautiful yet so utterly cold, like the lifeless stones they resemble.   
  
Frowning I sit up in the bed and fix the man with my usual indifferent gaze, contempt written across my face. I do not understand why, but I do not wish to appear weak in this man's eyes. I wish only to gain his respect and keep it, which is ludicrous since I just met him.   
  
Not even sparing me another glance for my efforts, he moves to the bedside table and picks up the small paper cup sitting there. I do not need to look to see that three insanely large pills lie at the bottom of the cup. I abhor appearing weak, and taking medicine is weak. Glancing back to the now empty doorway the man frowns slightly before turning that bejeweled gaze to me.   
  
"I can see now why you did not wish to take these."   
  
I blink, confused at first to what the man has said and then it's significance. Did the nurse retrieve him to bully me into submission? He does't look like a nurse, nor a candy stripper, not clad as he is in jeans and an orange sweater that clashes horribly with his hair. I tell him this and he just frowns at me before nodding his head in agreement.   
  
"I am neither nurse, nor doctor."   
  
He says this as if that answers everything, yet it answers nothing. I point this out to him and he just shrugs, picking up the pitcher of water and pouring a cupful before handing me the water and medication.   
  
"If the nurse could not get me to take this, junk, what makes you think _you_ can?"   
  
"I am merely trying to assist a distraught woman, who has been trying unsuccessfully for the past half hour or so attempting to aid an ailing child."   
  
The voice would be music to my ears if not for the thick layer of ice clinging to the words.   
  
"I am not a child." I say, not quite sure what to make of the man.   
  
"Then do not waste my time acting like one."   
  
Frowning up at the man has no effect, and I will not lower myself to make childish pleas and fake tears in an attempt to sway the man. Besides, something tells me that this would probably have little to no effect on him. Instead I take the proffered medication and swallow it down, with great difficulties. The pills really are too large to swallow normally, and within seconds I am choking like the pitiful child he thinks I am.   
  
In a show of compassion I would have previously thought the man incapable of, he pulls me close and begins to pat me gently on the back till the coughing fit has passed. Seating himself calmly on the bed beside me, he watches as I finish the last of the water. Taking the now empty cup from my hands and placing them on the table, all without leaving my side. I find myself taking comfort in his presence, hoping that he can stay with me just a little longer, but already I feel my eyes watering and my lids sliding closed. Whatever it was the nurse was trying to shove down my throat earlier really does work fast.   
  
Rising, he gently pushes me back onto the pillows and pulls the covers up around me. After fluffing my pillows he then moves to draw the shades on the window before turning back to face me. Nodding in way of a 'goodbye' he turns to leave.   
  
"Wait," I call out desperation leaking into my voice despite my valiant attempt to keep a hold of my usual indifferent tone. "A-arigatou."   
  
"Hn."   
  
Is his only response as he once again moves to leave. For a reason I can not yet begin to fathom I do not wish him to leave, not yet. Desperate for company, especially his I try again, this time I am more successful in voicing what I really want.   
  
"Wait, please. Can you stay with me, at least until the medicine fully kicks in?"   
  
The words leave my mouth in a rush, yet he somehow manages to make sense of them. I wonder does the man deal with fanboys on a daily basis, or at least fangirls? With those glorious looks, he must.   
  
"I should be going, I am here to visit someone." His reply is so monotone, so distant.   
  
'Of course, stupid Naoe,' I mentally curse myself. 'He doesn't care about you, and for that matter why do you care? The man is a nobody,' yet I still find the thought of him leaving a sad and bitter thing. 'He's here to see someone else' I tell myself his words from a moment ago cutting me deeper than any weapon has ever been able to do to me. 'Stop your whimpering Naoe. Get over it and grow up.' I chide myself, but still I feel the threatening presence of tears welling in my eyes.   
  
"If it will help, I will stay."   
  
And with that he takes a seat in the chair by the window, facing my bed. Words fail me and I smile in gratitude. The man's presence is soothing to me, perhaps with the combination of medication and his proximity I will have a restful sleep at least, void of the nightmares that normally plague me. As I begin to drift off a stray thought occurs to me, one that I voice.   
  
"I don't know your name."   
  
"I am unimportant."   
  
I wonder briefly if this is how I appear to people who bother to speak to me. Undaunted I continue, the man is an enigma to me; I will understand everything there is to know about him, starting with his name.   
  
"So am I, but I have a name."   
  
"Hn."   
  
He is caught, unable to back out of that statement. The look on his face though is something I have never seen on a person's face before, at least not when directed at me. I have no name for it, this confuses me even more.   
  
"You are not unimportant. Whoever has told you that is worthless."   
  
His response makes me smile. What I wouldn't give to really believe that. Silence falls and I realize he's still trying to evade my attempts at befriending him. Strange twist of events, me trying to befriend someone? Weird.   
  
"You havn't answered my question."   
  
"Will you go to sleep if I tell you?"   
  
"Hai."   
  
"Hn, namae wa Fujimiya Ran desu. Now go to sleep."   
  
He seems shocked that he's told me his name. Odd. Could he be as anti-social as I am? I'm curious now to know the reason why such a beautiful person such as Ran would feel the need to hide from society. Someone with his looks could easily be some sort of movie star. In his eyes however, lurks an intelligence that makes me consider placing him as some sort of high-powered executive. Those eyes, so beautiful and yet so jaded. What hand has fate dealt him that he has turned out like this? I will know someday.   
  
"I am Naoe, Naoe Nagi."   
  
'And I will know all there is to know about you Ran,' I add silently. 'I will know everything about your life and you will be mine. I am Schwartz, and I will take what I want.'   
  
TBC 

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*cough* Well that was definately interesting ne? I dunno why but I woke up one morning and asked myself 'could there be some sort of relationship between Nagi and Ran?' My answer, most definately. Ya know I seem to have a fetish for pairing Aya/Ran up with Schwartz guys for some odd reason ^^; Oh well no complaints, I hope? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Archives:**  
Nanashi -   
FanFiction.net - pen: Lady Dragon  
MediaMiner.org - pen: LadyDragon  
FanDomination.net - pen: Lady Dragon   
  
**Betaed by:** Falconsong K'Vala   
  
**Warning:** Technically speaking this fic contains shotakon, yoai, shounen ai, angst, and possibly a lil OOC-ness. If that hasn't scared you off then please do continue reading.   
  
**Disclaimer:** I have yet to pull out an official document that reads: "Ye now owns the rights to Weiß Kreuz and all characters therin" from inside a Cracker-Jack box.   
  
**Author's Notes:** I am so NOT a florist! So if my opinion of which flowers look good together dosn't jive with your's I apologize. And I took the flower meanings from FTD so they _should_ be legit.   
  
**Special Thanks to:** MistyEyes, Rei Eien, Yanagi-sen, Taline, Kei Makimoto, Corrupt Prodigy, himiko, Shinigami-chan, Koril Dragonic, and Aya from FanFiction.net for your wonderful reviews! ^^;   
  
Alrighty ya'all ^^ curtosy of my beta, Falcon, the edited and much cleaner version of chapter two is now up! 

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**The Prodigal Child**  
Lady Dragon 

  
  
**Chapter 2**

  
  
Waking up from my drug induced sleep, my bleary gaze automatically falls to the empty chair beside the window. He, Ran had promised to stay until I feel asleep but I should have known better than to expect that he would be waiting there when I awoke.   
  
Stretching my tired limbs an odd, but not unpleasant scent catches my attention. A sweet smelling aroma permeates the air in my room, effectively masking the annoying smell of antiseptic and hospitals. It's sweet but not nauseously so. Intrigued I seek out to the source and I am shocked to find a floral arrangement sitting beside the bed.   
  
Pale pink tulips are artfully situated in a sea of vibrant snapdragons, and solidagos. The arrangement was simple, yet elegantly crafted. Tucked within the sweet gesture was single card. Carefully, and almost fearfully I removed the card. On the front of the card sat a single koneko; it's paw held up and the symbol of good luck hanging around its neck. Flipping it over revealed a brief, hand-written message:   


Naoe,  
Do not give the nurse anymore trouble. Get well.   
  
Fujimiya, Ran.

  
  
Not exactly the completely sweet and endearing message one would hope to receive, but coming from the man who was so obviously short on words - more so than myself - the message spoke volumes. As I sat there looking over the card a stray thought filtered through my mind. Flipping the card back over confirmed my suspicions. All flower shops have the name of their shop on the card somewhere, at least, and usually an address or phone number as well. There was nothing however, that gave me a clue as to the shop's location or name. Odd. I'm not sure why but this thought bothered me. Maybe it's all those years as an assassin; paranoia, an occupational necessity.   
  
Placing the card back on the little card stand in the arrangement I sat back to study the flowers more. If Schuldig was here the man could tell me what their meanings were off the top of his head. Why the man had ever taken an interest in flowers is beyond me. The straightest answer I ever get on that topic is: "the women love a romantic". Why does knowing the meaning of flowers make him a romantic?   
  
Tulips are a flower of good fortune and mean you wish the person good luck. That much I remembered, I also remember that white anemones are for those who are struggling to find God. Why do I remember this? Because Schuldig takes great pleasure in giving Farfarello a fresh bouquet of them every other day, or so. The man likes playing with fire apparently.   
  
Sighing, I lay back and give up on interpreting the meaning of the bouquet - if there even is one to it. Most people just buy whatever looks good, never stopping to consider the hidden meanings. I'm not even certain if I've recognized the flowers correctly. Things of beauty are not my forte; leave that to Schuldig and Crawford. Except Ran; I will not share him.   
  
"You're awake I see. Have a nice nap? Well, you must have anyway. Why, we almost thought you'd sleep through lunch, though since you didn't seem too enthused about breakfast earlier. I did give you a lil' bit of extra helpings to make up for it. Next time, boy, you really should take your medicine on time; now it's time to take your medicine again, and to eat up little boy. We don't want you to be getting sick anymore now do we?"   
  
The infuriating nurse is back, pushing a cart into the room and chatting the entire time, non-stop I might add. The top shelf of the trolley-cart contained little paper cups of various pills, a plastic pitcher - probably containing water - and a stack of larger disposable paper cups. Stacked on the lower shelf appears to be trays of food, lids placed securely over each one preventing families, no doubt, from seeing the sludge they serve to patients.   
  
Suppressing the urge to heave something heavy at the nurse I obediently take the cup of medicine and water handed to me and swallow it down. I handg the empty cups back to her, and glaring at her in an attempt to make the woman leave; it doesn't even faze her. She just smiles sweetly, disposes of the empty containers and brings a tray of food to the stand by my bed.   
  
It smells bad, and she hasn't even removed the lid yet. Frankly I'd prefer to face Farf in one of his Berserker moments, rather than attempt to digest what lies on the plate. I watch in horror as the stand is pushed closer to me and I'm urged to sit up. This does not bode well.   
  
"Oh, come now, don't be like that cutie. You have to eat up! I'm sure Fujimiya-san won't be pleased to hear his little friend is wasting away here instead of getting better, all because he refuses to eat. Tsk, tsk, tsk."   
  
"He is not my friend." Though I really don't think I'd mind if he were my friend, and maybe a little more. Realizing the direction my thoughts have taken, I pause in my glaring and that gives the woman the confidence to lift the tray's lid and reveal the meal before me.   
  
Meatloaf. I utterly detest meatloaf, and this meatloaf has got to be the worst I've ever seen in my entire, though short, life. It's dried and looks as if perhaps someone else has digested it, prior to me, then regurgitated it for my benefit. Gray, lumpy mashed potatoes topped with sickeningly thick gravy sit beside the grotesque meat, and a pile of dried, cooked vegetables. A little carton of milk sits beside a small plateful of orange jello. Why couldn't I have had lime jello? Why did it have to be orange?   
  
"Now don't be so fussy boy, you have got's to eat up!"   
  
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, I pick up the fork and cautiously dig into the mashed potatoes and gravy. It's worse than it appears. The gravy is so thick they must have just poured the grease from the meatloaf over the potatoes and called it gravy. Despicable.   
  
"Ooh! What beautiful flowers; I see you saw them. Fujimiya-san does such a wonderful job with his bouquets, don't ya think?"   
  
'She's not gone yet!' my mind screams, and I find myself hard-pressed not to toss her into the wall. That voice of hers is grating on my nerves. Although she appears Nihon there is a curve to her chin, a rounding of the eyes that lets me know she is konketsu. The odd accent in her voice makes me wish to place her as American born; yet it's slightly different than Crawford's own. Finally her words click in my mind and I dare to speak to her, besides requesting her immediate departure that is.   
  
"Fujimiya-san made this himself?" I inquire, gesturing towards the flowers in order to make it clear what I am speaking of. The woman is immensely ditzy after all.   
  
"Hai. Fujimiya-san and some of his friends run a hana-ya called the Koneko no Sume Ie. It's very popular, and all the girls from the local schools, as well as some boys I think, gather there to do some bishi-gazing."   
  
Something tells me this nurse is probably one of them.   
  
"Why, there's even this kawaii genki otoko no ko there as well!! He's your age I believe, maybe jus' lil older."   
  
My intuition is correct; sometimes I hate it when I'm right.   
  
"Oh, dear! I must be going now; I've spent far too much time with you, little one. Take care for now. I'll be back around in a few ta pick up the tray so just leave it there."   
  
Sighing in relief at the sight of her departing back, I lean back in bed and push the nauseous food away from me. Damn it, but I wanted out of here, and just where was Farfarello at anyway? Granted it's still early, not even one o'clock in the afternoon yet, but shouldn't he be here watching over me? Answer: he probably just doesn't give a damn about me. Either that or he's trying to come up with some crazy scheme to appease Crawford when he returns. Of course, the most likely scenario is that he's out having the time of his life, butchering and slaughtering as many 'innocents' as he can. What's that saying? Oh, yeah. "While the cat's away the mice will play."   
  
True to her word, half an hour later the bubbly nurse returns, clearing away the breakfast tray while chastising me for not eating it all. Annoying is a word that comes to mind often when she is around. Just as I'm about to inform her of my observation she launches into another of her long tirades.   
  
"You know little one, you remind me quite a bit of Mr. Fujimiya-san. Yup, you sure do. Why in fact when I first moved here from the great US of A to live with my pa, I thought he was the rudest s.o.b I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting! Why, yes it's just not proper for a man to be so curt with a lady. That's what my pa always said anyway."   
  
I'm tempted to shove a pillow down her throat and watch her suffocate to death. A side affect to living the life of an assassin; you find death and murder to be the easiest options more times than not.   
  
"Of course, I learned that Fujimiya-san is just that way, and it's completely understandable. Poor, poor man, he was so young when it happened, too!"   
  
My curiosity is finally intrigued. I had wondered what had cause Ran to become the person he is, and it seemed the over friendly nurse was about to answer that question for me.   
  
"When what happened?"   
  
"Hm? Oh, well I wasn't on shift that night; I was still a newbie to the city and Japan so I really didn't like working night shifts. Apparently there was an accident, and his imouto was badly injured."   
  
"Imouto-san?"   
  
"Hai, Fujimiya-san has an imouto. In fact she's here on this floor just a few doors down from here and – wait. I shouldn't be discussing Mr. Fujimiya-san's personal life!"   
  
"Nani?"   
  
Shimatta! Just when the women begin to talk of something of interest, she suddenly remembers etiquette.   
  
"Tut, tut little one, I'm afraid I've said far too much of Fujimiya-san's personal affairs. Oh, I really shouldn't talk to you about him at all! Why, he's been so nice to me as well. Everyone else made fun of the funny looking lil girl from America, and laughed at my pronunciation; Fujimiya-san never laughed and always helped me!"   
  
The woman continued on for several more minutes, the whole while wringing her hands in distress. It seemed she was a close acquaintance of Ran since he had bothered to tell her of his life, to help her feel at home in a foreign country, and then to aid her with a rueful patient. Yes, Ran's obvious approval of her raised my own opinion of her; just a notch, really.   
  
"Will Fujimiya-san be in later today…" I began, glancing at her nametag before finishing my question, "...Atsuko-san?"   
  
The moment the words left my mouth, I could have kicked myself. Now the nurse would think I was an obsessed groupie, just like her. Either that or she would think I actually cared somewhat about her.   
  
"Um… well let's see, today is Monday so he has the closing shift. Hmm, yes he'll probably be in after the fan girl rush. Oh, how I do pity the man during that time of the day," She said, smiling happily the moment I said her name. Apparently it meant something to her, for some odd reason.   
  
"Aah."   
  
"It must be lonely for you, ne? I'll tell Fujimiya-san that you asked for him when he stops by the nurse's station later today."   
  
"Nani? No wait you-"   
  
"Ja ne little one!"   
  
And with a wave the nurse was rushing out of the room without a backwards glance in my direction. 'Great, just great,' I thought. 'Now Ran will think I'm a pathetic, sad little fan boy.'   
  
Laying back down I rolled onto my side and looked out the window. Farfarello might show up later in the evening, and Ran… Ran might show up if he's not completely disgusted with me. Until then, there was nobody to keep me company. The nurse's words repeated themselves in my mind and I shuddered.   
  
_"It must be lonely for you ne?"_   
  
She had hit the nail on the head, without even trying. I was lonely, but it's just the story of my life. Waiting for someone to notice me, all alone.   
  
TBC   


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Nihon - Japanese  
otoko no ko - roughly little/young boy  
genki - healthy, hyper, active   
konketsu – someone of mixed blood, it's the equivalent of calling someone a half breed and its not very nice. ^^;  
hana-ya – err fairly self explanatory ne? It means flower shop.   
  
^^; I've been told the southern accent is the most annoying for most Japanese people to understand. As you probably guessed Atsuko is an American born who has moved to Japan recently and therefore still has her accent intact.   
  
flower's meanings:  
Solidago - means success  
Snapdragons - represents strength and healing  
Pink Tulips - are for wishing someone Good luck   
*Ran's message was merely 'wishing you good luck on a successful and recovery.' really. ^^   
**White Anemone had these definitions:  
To integrate the Mother/Father God principle within.   
To help a person become more of the God-Force that they are.   
For people who are struggling with the idea of God. (Agnostics, sitting on the fence, not atheists.)   
A new consciousness essence.   
  
When I stumbled across that flower I had to find a way to incorporate it somehow ^^; seriously poor Farf! Meh, I'll leave floral arrangments to the pros _@   
  
Flowers are sweet, and so is candy; but reviews are best! *puppy dog eyes* PLEASE!!!! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Betaed by:** Falconsong K'Vala   
  
**Archived at:**  
Nanashi - h t t p : / / w w w 2 1 . b r i n k s t e r . c o m / m y l a d y d r a g o n   
Bish Fics - h t t p : / / w w w 1 0 . b r i n k s t e r . c o m / b i s h f i c s   
FanFiction.net - pen: Lady Dragon  
MediaMiner.org - pen: LadyDragon  
FanDomination.net - pen: Lady Dragon  
  
**Warning:** Technically speaking this fic contains shotakon, yoai, shounen ai, angst, and possibly a lil OOC-ness. If that hasn't scared you off then please do continue reading.   
  
**Disclaimer:** I have yet to pull out an official document that reads: "Ye now owns the rights to Weiß Kreuz and all characters therin" from inside a Cracker-Jack box.   
  
**Author's Notes:** Ah but I just had to put a lil more angst into this thing ;_; poor Ran-kun.   
  
Now this story is taking place before Schwartz first clashes with Weiß of course, so Weiß and everyone else except for the nurses, and Nagi call Ran by his alias of Aya. ^^; Just so you dont go thinking Aya-chan has suddenly come to life again or something. . .   
  
Also This was originally supposed to be part of an entire chapter and not stand alone, however what with teh delays in writing due to school and all, I decided to go ahead and upload this piece on its own. ^^' I warn you now, chapter four is gonna be really long ¬ ¬ would that in a way make up for my delay?   
**And after misplaing the betaed version like the baka that I am, here is the clean and smooth version cleaned up and polished by my wonderful beta *huggles Falconsong*   
  
. . .And One More Thing!   
**Special Thanks to:** Race Ulfson, Ryuke-Naoe, Larania, Koril Dragonic, Abigail, joma, Kyra, Kei Makimoto, Countess Dee, V-channy-chan, krylancelo, Yanagi-sen, Sue, Taline, Dalamar the Dark, Jay Kamiya, Misura, and NieA for your wonderful reviews and praise! I sincerely think this is the most reviews I've ever gotten on one of my works before. ^^'   


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**The Prodigal Child**  
by Lady Dragon  


**Chapter 3**

"Ne ni-sama, can I have these?"   
  
A pair of bright blue eyes turned in his direction, where he had been standing watching with amusement as the young girl cooed and gushed over the various merchandise laid out on the tables and stands around them. Her obvious pleasure brought a small smile to his face. He hated loud and crowded places, but it was her birthday, and he'd be sure she had a great time.   
  
"They're impractical, besides you already chose your birthday present."   
  
The blue eyes drifted once more to the display and then swung back around to him once again as the raven haired girl before him squared her shoulders and prepared the age old tradition of coaxing her brother out of his stuffy mood.   
  
"Feh, but I love these!! They're so beautiful Ni, onegaishimasu? It's my birthday. . ."   
  
Bright shining cerulean eyes stared up at him pleadingly, tears already making their crystal depths sparkle with the light of the paper lanterns overhead.   
  
He sighed then, he knew he'd lost and so did she. Ran could never resist his younger sister, especially not when she turned those shinning and beautiful eyes on him, begging for something that he could easily grant her. A slight pout touched the rose hued lips, adding to the overall effect, and Ran was doomed. What was a few yen if it brought a smile to his imouto's lovely and cherubic face?   
  
"Alright, just don't say I never did anything nice for you on you're birthday."   
  
"WAI!! Arigatou Ran-nichan"   
  
"Dou itashimashite Aya-chan." He whispered quietly as he handed the seller some money and received in return a pair of elegant gold earrings, carefully wrapped in tissue paper. Aya reached her hand out to take them, but he stubbornly held them out of reach.   
  
"You'll just have to wait till we get home Aya," Ran said sticking out his tongue at his sister's eagerness. "Okaasan and otousan wanted us to eat dinner with them remember? I'll give them to you then."   
  
The girl's eyes seemed to dim momentarily at the thought of a prolonged wait for her gift, then lighted happily as an idea sprang to mind.   
  
"Okkei, then I can show them off to kaasan and tousan!"   
  
Before Ran could even comment on his sister's swift mood change he felt a tug on his arm moments before he was being dragged along, across the festival grounds and back towards home.   
  
"Ne, ni-san did I tell you 'thank you' already?"   
  
"Yes Aya, you did." A smile stole its way to his lips at his sisters actions.   
  
"Ma, then I'll tell you again, domo arigatou Ran-nisan!"   
  
"Dou itashimashite Aya." Ran replied rolling his eyes, even as a faint blush stole across his pale cheeks.   
  
Rain begin to pour down from the sky above them, and the two siblings quickened their pace, all the while being pelted with rain. Somewhere between the festival grounds and the street that their large home was located on the duo's dash became a race, a race that Aya was certain to win. It would be her last race with her brother for years to come. 

  
  


Dxxxxxxx[]==================== 

  
  
_"Dou itashimashite Aya."_   
  
Those words, they rang in my mind now. Continuously they bounce and reverberate throughout my cerebrum, dancing and pounding to their unique and different drums, never once repeating an old note, instead finding new and more hurtful cords to pluck. They were one of the last things I ever said to her. Thinking back now I wish I had formed some sort of eloquent response, something that somehow conveyed my admiration and love for her. But I've never been good with words.   
  
"Domo arigatou Aya-san."   
  
A female voice repeats once again, breaking me out of my melancholy reverie. The memory was wrong, altered somehow now. Why would Aya-chan be thanking herself?   
  
"Aya-san, daijoubu ka?"   
  
Opening my eyes, my startled and dazed gaze is immediately arrested by the sight of a young girl before me. How did I get here, on the floor with some girl looking at me in the weirdest and strangest way?   
  
Standing up from where I was kneeling on the floor, a fallen notebook now clutched in my hand a wave of confusion washes over me. Blinking rapidly, attempting to clear my thoughts doesn't help much.   
  
I was here, in the Koneko surrounded by loud and insane fangirls, not at the summer festival. I hadn't been to the summer festival in two years now; this upcoming summer would make it three in fact.   
  
"Aya-san, is everything um, okay?"   
  
The nameless girl, whose notebook I had retrieved after Ken had carelessly crashed into her, stood before me now, no longer kneeling on the ground, a puzzled look in her eyes.   
  
"Hn."   
  
I manage to grunt belying my confusion and masking my thoughts effectively as well. With one last glance and the notebook I hand it back to her rather quickly. The notebook really was a scary thing indeed. Too many hearts with the names of my fellow co-workers and myself scrawled across it, and not necessarily next to her name nor her friend's either.   
  
"Oh, I see. Well thank you so much Aya-san!"   
  
The girl is over her confusion and moves to latch herself onto my arm, a move I easily predict and evade. She, Midori, actually purchases arrangements from time to time, which is why I bothered to retrieve her notebook, but she also seems to be the one responsible for the flood of 'I Love Aya-san!' buttons adorning far too many school blazers, backpacks and blouses in this shop. And to add insult to injury, once Yohji recovered from the shock, and disappointment that his admirers hadn't thought to do the same for him, immediately donned a button as well.   
  
Omi placed one on as well after being persuaded to do so by two of the more aggressive girls that frequent the shop. Ken, I believe has thus far managed to elude the evil buttons. I'm quite frankly too afraid to look however.   
  
The noise of the shop manages to erode the lingering effects of the memory from the forefront of my thoughts, but still even as the senseless and brainless girls continue clamoring about the shop, striving to be the one that catches their favorite florist's eye, it lingers still; a reminder of what was lost, and possibly, forever lost to me.   
  
"Omi-kun, do you think I look pretty in this?"   
  
"Ah, of course you do!"   
  
"Yohji-sama, I turn eighteen this Thursday. . . you do like blondes ne Yohji?"   
  
"Sa-"   
  
"Iie, Yohji promised to take _me_ out this Thursday! Didn't you Yohji-sama?"   
  
"Ken-san do you have a girlfriend?"   
  
"Can I be your girlfriend Omi-kun?"   
  
"Ano-"   
  
"Craddle robber, Omi's MINE!"   
  
Endless and inane chatter floated around me. The noise was rising in pitch and there was nothing I could do, except perhaps one thing.   
  
"Urusai desu! If you're not going to buy anything than GET OUT!!"   
  
And with that the noise came to a sudden halt with several of the noisy girls vacated the shop immediately. No one dared to cross my path when I was upset. That was definitely a good thing, at least the grateful looks my shop mates were tossing my way said so, anyway.   
  
It was several hours later when the rush of customers died down, and at least another half hour of standing and listening to Yohji attempt to wheedle me into staying before I was able to escape to the hospital. The blonde was wasting his breathe, I was late as it was; not to mention that a sixth sense was screaming at me to hurry to the hospital. Could something have gone wrong with Aya-chan? No nothing could have happened to her. She was fine and someday soon she would even open those beautiful blue eyes to the world around her again.   
  
That's what I keep telling myself anyway, over and over I mentally chant the mantra as I hurry from the Koneko to my car; Yohji still following me, pleading for me to stop and listen to him. Something is wrong, and although a part of me denies it has to do with Aya, a part still demands that I hurry. If its not Aya, then who or what is making my sixth sense scream bloody murder?   
  
Vaguely I realize Yohji has given up the futile attempt to dump his shift on me, and instead has turned his attention to the most gullible of our team, Hidaka Ken. Twelve steps away from my car, two and three quarters of a mile away from the hospital, forty-two steps from the parking lot to the doors, seventy-eight paces from stairway door to the nurse's station, and then from there twenty-four paces to Aya-chan's room. I can be by her side in nineteen minutes and forty-two seconds. That's to long! Still nothing will keep me from her side, I won't let anything happen to her again, no matter what.   
  
The next thing I realize I'm stepping through the door on the seventh floor and briskly passing the milling patients and family members by. The nurse's station stands apart from the noisy occupants, a lone figuring occupying the post. Normally I'd stop by and ask about Aya's progress, but paranoia demands I see her now, not three minutes from now.   
  
"Fujimiya-san! Chotto matte kudasai."   
  
It takes a moment for the words to catch my attention and even longer for my brain to register the fact that I am being paged, and asked to stop. I would have probably continued on down the hall had a delicate and slender hand not gripped my arm in a firm grip, belying the owner of the hand's delicateness.   
  
"Fujimiya-san, is everything alright?"   
  
Atsuko, my mind whispers to me in relief. As her identity registers a tension slowly seeps from me, a tension I had not even realized was there.   
  
"My imouto-"   
  
"Fujimiya-chan? She's just fine, I was just in her room checking her vitals and everything is fine."   
  
The last of my worries ease away, yet still something remains. A tightness to my heart, and a cold clammy feeling that refuses to dissipate at the words of Aya's nurse.   
  
"Atsuko, is everything alright then?"   
  
My mind refuses to believe that the 'big brother radar', as Aya-chan affectionately dubbed it long ago, was wrong. I have a sort of sixth sense for when things go wrong, or about to; and its never been wrong, never. Like the time I had to hurry home from a meeting with one of Omi's teachers, my senses screaming that something was amiss at the Koneko.   
  
Rushing the meeting I floored it home, managing not to scratch the fine paint job of the Porsche, and somehow managing to obey most of the traffic laws, thus saving Tsukiyono from ruining the upholstery and finding out what a katana through the stomache feels like.   
  
The minute I had walked into the Koneko I had seen immediately what was wrong. Yohji, the baka, had managed to get himself arrested. Outstanding driving citations and had resulted in a warrant being issued for the lanky blonde. A warrant a male police officer was quite happy to deliver to the wiry assassin who had dated the man's, then seventeen year old daughter.   
  
The money that I had saved in one of my various accounts had gotten Yohji out on bail, while a quick plan and a night with two very stressed, tired and put out assassins sitting in front of the computer hacking though the police files; Omi eliminating the numerous files the keikan had gathered on Kudoh while I attempted to find something to use against the judge ruling on Yohji's case.   
  
The end result; judge Yohkomura ruling that there were not a sufficient amount of violations necessary for a warrant to be issued, let alone an arrest to be made. He also decided to toss the charges of Yohji molesting a minor out on the grounds of 'ridiculous folly'. What could have possibly caused this? Some judges truly get scared and will do whatever you wish when you bring to light the fact that the reason they made the banister was due to the influence of Tokyo's largest yukaza ring.   
  
No sadly my sixth sense was never wrong. Something was amiss, but if it wasn't Aya-chan, non of Weiß were injured or in trouble, Mamoe-san was well, and I was fairly sure the Koneko was still standing. Nothing appeared to be amiss, so who or what had my skin breaking out in a cold sweat, not that I'd ever admit that last part aloud though.   
  
"Oh Fujimiya-san I'm so glad you're here now!"   
  
The relief in Atsuko's eyes was apparent, and I almost expected her to latch onto my arm like some certain fan girls I knew when I saw the starry eyed look she was giving me.   
  
'Why would Atsuko be relieved to see me; unless something was wrong, but Aya-chan is fine so who else could it be?' I mused silently, and then a name came to my mind. Naoe Nagi.   
  
"Is something wrong with Nagi? Is Nagi okay?"   
  
I frowned at the worry evident in my voice. How is it possible that someone I haven't even known a full day, let alone a week could possibly worry me so?   
  
"He's a child, a child in need of protection."   
  
Perhaps that was it, yes in fact I'm sure that's it. I'm just protective of the young boy as any person who knows what it is like to have younger siblings would.   
  
"The poor boy seems to lonesome Fujimiya-san, could you stop in to visit him for a few minutes? I don't mean to ask so many favors of you, but his guardian still hasn't visited and he really could use come company."   
  
I blink, and then nod slowly. Visiting Naoe is not beyond reason; I had considered stopping by again anyway.   
  
"Subarashi" she says smiling before hurrying along to run whatever errands she had been up to previously.   
  
"Nothing is wrong with Aya-chan" I whisper to myself as I walk down the hall to Aya's room, still I can not dismiss the wave of utter and complete relief flooding through me as I see her laying calmly within her bed.   
  
In my haste I had forgotten to bring with me a fresh arrangement so I busy myself with fixing up the previous ones situated around the room. Two arrangements are dying and can not be saved, there are though some blooms from both that can be salvaged. Throwing away the unsalvageable pieces and one of the pots, I then begin to work on a new arrangement for Aya. I feel guilty that it completely slipped my mind to make a fresh new one at the shop. What kind of onisan am I?   
  
As my fingers deftly maneuver the blooms of violets and daisies into an aesthetically pleasing sight, I find myself spilling out the entire day's events to her. From my early morning visit to her, Atsuko's valiant attempts at feeding Naoe his medication, my eventual conversation with him, and his insistence that I stay till he fell asleep. Here I cannot help but pause and wonder over the enigma that was Naoe Nagi.   
  
I am not the sort of person that gives reassurances to others. My mere presence is enough to intimidate others, not to mention my personality is hardly that inviting or charming. In my attempt to put my past behind me, to grow up and become someone strong, someone that could protect his loved ones and teammates, someone that Shion would be able to look down on with some small measure of pride I have lost what small measure of humanity a killer could ever have.   
  
Omi, Ken, even Yoji have retained their humanity. The people that flock to them, the beautiful and real smiles they show to the world are proof enough of that. I have no humanity left in me, and I wonder what Aya will think when she wakes up to see the cold and frozen Abyssinian the killer in place of her laughing and shy onichan Ran. People do not gravitate to me, rather they run. So what had made Naoe take comfort in my presence? What made him ask that I stay with him?   
  
"Why did Nagi ask for me to keep him company?" I ask the silent room, but no response, except for the continuous beeping of the machines, is forthcoming.   
  
I look down at my hands and see the arrangement already finished. How long had I been standing here staring off into space?   
  
I half expect to hear Aya-chan begin scolding me for being a dreamer, daydreaming while I was speaking to her. She's silent of course; no words ever leave her pale lips anymore. Why I continue to speak to her is questionable; a part of me believes that deep down, somewhere in there she can still hear me. But a more selfish part of me continues to speak with her in hope that her mere presence will bring some measure of peace and comfort to me; she usually does. Even sleeping, Aya's presence is a soothing thing. She speaks no words, answers no questions and yet all the same whenever I leave this room all my questions are answered and my fears laid to rest; I feel calmer and reassured that I can continue on living this blood soaked life.   
  
Almost as if she has asked me to continue, I pick up right where I left off; words tumbling out of my mouth at a rate that would alarm and scare my teammates. I do believe I have spoke more to Aya in a single day than I have my entire time with Weiß.   
  
As the events of my day come to a finish I'm left with one question that still has not been answered, not by Aya, not by myself. Why me, why did Nagi ask for me to stay? Aya has no answer, and neither do I but she does have a solution for me. It's almost as if I can hear her whispering in my mind, telling me what I should do. For once I hesitate at her advice for just a moment before nodding and kissing her cheek in parting.   
  
"Your right, I should visit him."   
  
Aya just lays there, but deep within my heart I can feel her smiling.   
  
"I'm your onisan Aya-chan, yet you always take care of me."   
  
No response, just the knowledge that she is smiling and laughing with me in joy. 

**TBC**

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Responses to some reviews:   
  
Countess Dee wrote:   
_"Just a minor nagging about your ending note, agnositics don't struggle with the idea of God. I know, I'm agnostic. Agnostics believe in God but we don't believe in or follow any set religion."_   
. . .unless I typed the definition wrong, as I said before that was what was given as the meaning of a white anemone.   
"* To integrate the Mother/Father God principle within.   
* To help a person become more of the God-Force that they are.   
* For people who are struggling with the idea of God.   
(Agnostics, sitting on the fence, not atheists.)   
* A new consciousness essence." 

If that offends you, I'm sorry ^^ I didn't intend to offend anybody, at least not with this fic. I just typed it as is. 

Sue wrote:   
_"A very unusual, quiet and compelling story. No real action but leaves you wanting more. A worthy read. Hopefully, there will be more to read soon."_

Oh don't worry, there will be some action later on, count on it. ~_^ I don't think I've ever had someone call one of my stories a 'worthy read' before though. ^^ This is definitely a red letter day! 

Taline wrote:  
_"Good lord, that nurse is annoying! I feel Nagi's pain. This story is most excellent. Please keep it up. I'm enjoying it immensely. Schuldich is a flower buff, huh? I find that funny for some reason. Well, please write more soon."_

Ah ha! I knew someone would pick up on Schu's rather ironic talent. . .gee wonder how he got it and how that ties in ^^; you'll just have to keep reading to find out though. 

Ryuke-Naoe wrote:   
_"it's a great fic. i don't read nagixaya's often (there aren't many of them out there), but this caught my attention. well-written and great plot. Except i'm curious about one thing - wouldn't Nagi recognize Aya?"_

Hm, I thought I mentioned this before during the first chapter, but being the idiot I am sometimes I could have forgotten to type it in the author's notes. This story takes place right before the first part of the anime series, and continues on through the series and will undoubtedly blend some of the anime with the manga (such as part of Ran's past before he came to work with Weiß). At this point in time Schwartz haven't really tangled it up with Weiß yet. And I think I've said to much now ^^' 

NieA wrote:  
_"wai! i really like this story so far ^_^ i haven't read a NagiXRan fic yet, and right now I'm thoroughly enjoying this one. i really hope you get around to continuing it. just one minor complaint though-- your sporadic usage of the Japanese language... you probably enjoy it, and for some reason or another find that it adds to the story, but as a reader and an obsessive fan of anime, manga, and formerly Weiß Kreuz, i find it to be rather... irritating. no offense intended. well, good luck with the story!!"_

Your right, I do find the use of the Japanese language adds a bit to the story, specifically to the characters. I have never seen the dub of this show, and frankly I'm at a loss as to how most of their more common traits would come across in English. Not to mention that there are some key aspects that I really don't like how the English translation would sound, for example Omi's use of '-kun' and the other characters use of '-san'. I really can't type 'Mr. Yoji¡' in place of 'Yoji-san' without falling to the floor laughing. Some things are not meant to be translated. ^o^   
  
^^' Then there is the selfish excuse that it also helps me to practice my Japanese by throwing in a few lines into the conversation. I really don't find the mixing of languages in a conversation annoying, and that's probably because I've grown up in an area where it's normal to be talking in English and then suddenly throw in some lines in Spanish. It's just how I talk, and write. However it if really does offend some people I will try to tone it down a bit.   
  
Okay so how was that? Pretty bad ne? ;_; review please?


	4. Chapter 4

**Archived at:**  
Nanashi - h t t p / n a n a s h i - i n c . n e t  
FanFictiondotnet - pen: Lady Dragon  
MediaMinerdotorg - pen: LadyDragon 

**Warning:** Technically speaking this fic contains shotakon, yoai, shounen ai, angst, and possibly a lil OOC-ness. If that hasn't scared you off then please do continue reading.

**Disclaimer:** I have yet to pull out an official document that reads: "Ye now owns the rights to Weiß Kreuz and all characters therin" from inside a Cracker-Jack box.

**Author's Notes:** Well I have let this story sit for quite some time untouched and for that I apologize immensely. My muse has run off long ago and my beta reader even longer still. However I will not give up (shakes fist determinedly) and I hope you the readers haven't either. This chapter is unbearably short in comparison with the other chapters but I wanted to get a little bit more of Nagi's past and his way of thinking out before I progressed the story further. It is important for the story's plot that the readers be able to understand where he is coming from and I just didn't feel that there was enough background in the story yet to do this. There will be more flash backs and snippets of his past along with Ran's in the chapters to come, but this part I thought was essential.

_One More Thing!  
_**Special Thanks to:** Rita, Dalamar the Dark, Koril Dragonic, Kyra, Jay Kamiya, Misura, NieA, Bulma Greenleaf, Sisithewestwitch, Dana a.k.a. Kudou Setsuna, xCrsuhx, klyukaizer, Yanagi-sen, Mikaesu, Taline, and Alli4 for your wonderful reviews.

My apologies if I missed anyone. ' has some people's reviews registered for chapter number four, which is just now being typed so I'm not sure who reviewed what chapter and when. O.O;

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**The Prodigal Child**  
by Lady Dragon 

Chapter 4

To the casual observer it might appear that I was asleep, but I wasn't not really anyway. Since I was four years old I've never been able to sleep deeply unless I've been completely pumped full of drugs. Before I meet Crawford and he brought me to the institute I had learned to survive with a minimal amount of sleep. Of course getting by with little sleep doesn't do one much good if they're a heavy sleeper. I learned this first hand when I was a kid.

It had been raining non stop for days, heavy showers that immediately drenched a person in seconds rained down upon the city off and on throughout the day and most of the night. When it wasn't pouring outside there was a fine and constant drizzle that helped to set the chill in a person's bones. The weather dampened everyone's moods, there wasn't a person who trudged along gloomily to their destination. Those that could call in sick or use vacation time did so in order to avoid having to venture out into such bleak weather. I was about four years old then, my parents had kicked me out onto the streets a few weeks prior too and it was a miracle that I had survived that long. But then again, I am hell spawn so maybe it wasn't too surprising that I had managed to survive that long living on the fringes of society.

Normally I shunned human contact, fearing that everybody would eventually see me as my parents had seen me, a possessed and evil creature, Satan's child. I scrounged meals from the dumpsters in the alleys behind restaurants, sometimes I was fortunate enough to find food that vaguely resembled a meal that would have been sat down in front of me when I was at home. Most of the time though I made do with whatever was left over from the scrounging of the city's other derelicts; which to say wasn't much. I could have used my powers to defend myself, to procure a decent meal, but I was immensely afraid of them.

So that bleak week found me huddled in a corner of an abandoned apartment complex, squatting beneath a staircase and surrounded by the lumbering shapes of the other homeless prowlers that had taken refuge there as well. A few children my age and older were scattered about as well as a few women. The majority of the people there though had a dangerous and predatory air about them that sent shivers down my spine. They were the sort that I normally wouldn't have gone within twelve feet of yet here I was forced to share living space with them in lieu of sleeping out in the rain. I might have been a child still, a child who had hardly spent anytime living on the streets, yet I knew that those who went to sleep in the rain never woke up.

By nightfall my eyes were drooping shut. The combination of stress, fear, and cold had left me exhausted and in dire need of sleep. Somewhere in the dark room a woman began to sing softly, the words I did not understand but the melody was soothing, before I knew it I had fallen asleep beneath the stairs. I was awoken later that night to a confusing scene. The cold and dark room that was illuminated only by the brief flashes of lightening had become a fiery inferno. The flames from the fire cast the remaining figures into startling relief. A large dark puddle was stretching out to my hiding spot it's source, the bodies of two boys a few years older than me. Screams sliced through the air and in a panic I flew from my hiding place hell bent on getting as far away from this madness as possible. As I ran my foot caught on some of the debris strewn across the floor. I landed with a thud, the air completely knocked out of me. Before I could even stagger back to my feet a large hand seized me by the back of my neck and hauled me straight up into the air.

My vision blurred for a moment before coming back into focus, I smelled the man's foul breath long before I was able to focus on his face. The words he spoke had no meaning to me, only the menace in them.

I remember him shaking me for a moment before tossing me, my back colliding with one of the few walls still standing. Beyond the man I saw the object that had tripped me and alerted the brute to my existence. There before me lay the unmoving body of a woman, her clothes ripped away and her neck bent at an unnatural angle. I couldn't help but wonder if she was the one who had been singing and who had unwittingly lulled me into a deep and peaceful sleep. My thoughts and gaze were wrenched away from her as the miscreant approached me, a maniacal gleam in his single eye.

What happened then I'll never be sure of, all I know for certain is that sometime later I found myself in the town's plaza with no recollection of how I had gotten there and in the state that I was in. The decent and upright citizens steered clear of the little boy hunched down by the fountain in the plaza completely and utterly drenched in blood. There I remained for a few minutes trying to get my bearings before I heard the shrill whistle of a police officer and the hurried footsteps that announced their swift approach. I bolted from the plaza, down the many twisted and narrow alleyways until I found a loose manhole cover and slid into the City's sewers. There I discovered that although I was covered from head to toe in blood, there was no apparent wound on my person. The memories I had of that frightful night came rushing back, but with them no true answers as to how I came to be in the plaza, covered in blood, came to me.

Days later I learned that the apartment building I had been in had burnt to the ground that night, despite the torrential rains. Firefighters had stumbled upon numerous carcasses of the squatters that had been caught up in the blaze. That incident occurred two days before that eventful day in the plaza.

When I was at Rosencrantz I learned that using a large amount of raw power that the body is unaccustomed to can cause the user's body to shut down, the mind to blank out hours and whole days as the body struggles to right itself.

Whatever the case the incident served to teach me one thing that I never forgot. It taught me that a person who sleeps deeply will most likely never awake again. In the following months on the street until Crawford's discovery of me the ability to sleep lightly and to come fully awake at the slightest noise served me well. It served me better while I was at the institute and in my years with Schwarz.

So when the door to my hospital room opened I awoke instantly. My breathing pattern never fluctuated and no movements betrayed my awakening, I kept my eyes closed as the presence fully entered the room and shut the door. It remained by the door, seemingly surveying it's surroundings and the inhabitant. I struggled mentally to find a name for the presence that I felt, yet I drew a blank, despite this fact I sensed no malice and suspected it was yet another nurse or doctor.

So imagine my surprise when my visitor spoke from beside my bed in a voice that could only belong to one person.

"I know you're awake Naoe."

**TBC**

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As we speak I am going back over the past chapters and refurbishing them, if you want you can re-read them, but aside from grammar errors and modified lines nothing major will be changed. 

Last updated: Friday August 12, 2005


	5. Chapter 5

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**Warning:** Technically speaking this fic contains shotakon, yoai, shounen ai, angst, and possibly a lil OOC-ness. If that hasn't scared you off then please do continue reading.

**Disclaimer:** I have yet to pull out an official document that reads: "Ye now owns the rights to Weiß Kreuz and all characters therein" from inside a Cracker-Jack box.

**Author's Notes:** Yes I know it has been a LONG time since the last update and to make matters worse this chapter really isn't that long in comparison with the other ones. Your consolation however is that the next chapter will be out very soon. :) I guarantee it.

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**The Prodigal Child**  
by Lady Dragon 

Chapter 5

_"I Know you're awake Naoe."_

I had never even heard him move from the doorway, yet there he stood beside my bed arms crossed across his chest looking down on me as I lay here in my bed. A light uplift to the corner of his mouth let me know that he was enjoying watching me gaze up at me him owlishly with my mouth agape like a fish out of water. I hadn't been able to recognize his presence let alone sense that he had moved away from the doorway and was standing right beside my bed. Had he been an assassin I would have been dead, and considering I am an assassin not to mention I was just congratulating myself on my superb survival skills that's saying a lot. My face felt warm suddenly and I scowled up at my guest. Imagine, Prodigy of Schwarz bested by a mere florist, a beautiful and drop dead sexy one granted, but a florist none the less.

Maybe he's a telepath like Schu and was able to conceal and presence from me and blur my thoughts? Red hair could be synonymous with telepathy just like it is with a bad temper, pale skin, freckles, and green eyes.

But then again there isn't anything ordinary about Ran and I'd hate to suddenly be able to fit him into a mold. That and being a telepath would make him sort of similar to Schuldig and that's something I just couldn't stand.

"Well that makes two of us then, _Fujimiya_". I said in response to his observation. I refused to let him see how much he had rattled me. Judging by the quick and miniscule flash of amusement in his eyes he wasn't fooled by my affected air of nonchalance. I take it back, telepathy must be synonymous with red hair. Because I am a mast, a prodigy, and when I choose to hide my emotions I do just that. He had to have read my mind in order to know how he was affecting me.

He shakes his head slowly in face of my defiance and pulls a chair up beside my bed. Feeling oddly complacent and indulgent of him I raise myself up so that I am sitting up and facing him as an equal. With me on the high hospital bed and him on the shorter and possibly even more uncomfortable chair we are at equal heights and I stare steadily into his amethyst eyes without developing a crick in my neck for once. We stay that way for some time, neither of us moving or saying a word. We merely gaze into each others eyes as if we are trying to read within their depths the words that neither of us can say. The scene could hardly be described as romantic, as the silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Yet the silence is not an uncomfortable one. It is truly as though we are both completely at ease in each other's presence; saying nothing but everything all at once. Just when I am certain that this moment will last forever the silence is dissipated by his smooth baritone.

"Your guardian has not yet returned to visit you." It's not a question, just a fact that he states as blandly as possible yet there is something in his posture that belies his sudden discomfort.

"You've been keeping tabs on me." I cannot stop nor chase away the smirk that plays upon my lips, two can play this game of casual observations.

"So that's what they call hysterical and worried nurses these days." He returns my smirk in kind and I feel heat returning to my cheeks once again. Damn that Atsuko. "If your guardian has not made an appearance by midday tomorrow I will sign you out"

Now that was totally out of the blue. "What do you mean?"

"I heard some of the nurses earlier discussing your possibly release tomorrow."

"Why the hell then haven't I been informed?" I am upset, no frustrated. I am the one being held here against my will and these fools couldn't be bothered to tell me that my time was nearly up! And he has the gall to sit there and say it all in manner more suited for one making a casual observation about the weather. My temper flares for but a moment and I hear something shatter in the bathroom. _Get a grip Naoe I order myself, don't let yourself lose control not here, not now in front of a normal. _

He is looking at the bathroom, eyes narrowed as he debates investigating it yet his next words are aimed at me. "They didn't inform you so as not to get your hopes up. You are a minor, you cannot check yourself out." Again my temper spikes, this time as being dismissed as a mere child. I could kill all of the people on this floor without breaking a sweat and still I am treated and coddled as though I were a weak and useless infant.

"Your temper is getting the best of you" he says, pale hand outstretched as though reaching out to comfort me. Ran glances down at his appendage as though it has betrayed him and instead he lays his hand on the bed beside him then continues on. "I did not think you would appreciate being held here any longer then necessary, that is why I have offered to sign you out and take you home. It is your decision."

And just like that my anger is gone. I should lay down conditions, tell him that all I require is that he sign me out and that I will find my own way back. Perhaps I should even refuse his offer altogether and believe in my teammate's competence and abilities. Instead I find myself smiling for the first time in a very long time. "Thank you, I'd like that very much."

He returns my gratitude with a small smile of his own and settles back into his chair to make himself more comfortable. We pass the rest of the time talking about small inconsequential things. I learn that he and his co-workers have separate apartments above the florist's shop that they run with the aid of an elderly woman, and with a little more prodding and poking I find out their names and a little bit about them. This is how I come to know just a little bit more about my favorite florist. How I come to find out that he enjoys working with flowers, taking long walks, and his deep love of music and the night. I tell him a bit about myself in kind, nothing revealing or damning, just a few facts and tidbits that let him know who Nagi is and what Nagi likes. By the time visiting hours are over we are on a first name basis and I feel as though there is a deeper connection between us now then even the one he shares with Atsuko.

As he stands up to leave I hurry to tell him one last thing "Ran, I just" I hesitate though, not sure what it is I want to say.

"You don't need to say thank you again Nagi, you never will." He nods his head in parting and then he's gone.

I settle back onto the pillows behind me, my mind replaying our entire conversation over and over as yet another smile steals across my face. Tomorrow, I will have the chance to leave with Ran. And if I play my cards right I might even get the chance to see where it is exactly that he lives and get another chance to spend more time with him. It's foolish of me to spend time thinking of ways for us to meet again, things to do together and even possible future dates. I will only be in Tokyo so long as Takatori is useful to Estet and not a moment longer. Even then it is not a gurantee that I will be in Tokyo much longer, I could be relocated to another site at any time; myself or Schwarz. Yet I find myself refusing to be realistic about it all at this moment, this point in time I don't care if Farfarello returns tonight and tries to remove me from here, I'll fight him tooth and nail for this chance that fate has given me. This chance to live a little, this chance to live a little with Ran.

**TBC**

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Unbetaed and completely raw version so please excuse the various typos and what not. Also due to FFdotNet's new rules I will no longer be responding to reviews in the story. For unsigned (anonymous) reviews just leave an email addy so that I can contact you if you would like something answered. If it's a general enough question I might address it in the next chapter's author notes though. For everyone else I will be using the new review-commenter thingy. Cross your fingers that I don't break the darn thing.

last updated: January 11, 2006


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